Alphabet Soup - F Lee's Thoughts
by SMK KMS
Summary: In response to a Guest Reviewer's request, here's Lee's thoughts on a few subjects. Brought to you by the letter F.


Disclaimers: The characters in this story are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Productions. I make no money from these characters; I simply like to share their world for a short time.

A/N Thanks to a wonderful suggestion from a Guest reviewer, I've decided to take a look at the letter F from Lee's point of view. While he's not given to ramble, I can see these thoughts running through his head. Hope you enjoy! (Constructive reviews are always welcome. Let me know if I should tackle a few other letters of the alphabet!) A special thanks to Bruce Boxleitner and Kate Jackson—as well as the rest of the cast—for portraying these characters so wonderfully.

 _ **Fate**_. He liked to think that it was fate that brought him to the attention of Harry V. Thornton, the Agency's founder. After all, his academic record wasn't the greatest. His social calendar had been much more important in his eyes than his studies.

But his parents had both been 'spies.' It was in the blood. And his military background, both as a child being dragged around the world with his Air Force uncle and his own stint in Army intelligence, didn't hurt. Even his choice of major—political science/history—lent itself to the job.

Being chosen for the Oz Network early in his career—now that was fate. Who better to help train him than the Wizard himself, Paul Barnes. After that, fate had placed him under Section Chief Billy Melrose. Hell, Billy was more like a father to him than his uncle was. It was under Billy's supervision that he had become one of the best in the business. Fate had yet again intervened when Eric had taken that bullet that was meant for him. Was fate trying to tell him something?

Was it fate that told him to give that package to the pretty brunette with those large chocolate-brown eyes at the train station that day?

Hmmm . . . if it _was_ fate, then he owed its fickle hand a huge thank you for sending Amanda into his life.

 _ **Family**_. Now there's a word he hadn't thought about in a long, long time. The Colonel was all the true family he had left, and he hadn't seen him since the Colonel had that run-in with the military over the crash of his planes. Not that it mattered, really. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

The rest of his 'family' had died when he was five. He would never know what having a loving mother and father felt like. After all, he was too young to remember much about them. All he had were vague impressions—and a few pictures. Sometimes he thought he could still hear his mother's voice, but he wasn't so sure anymore. The voice that he heard lately kept sounding more and more like that of his partner.

Not that he thought of Amanda as his mother. She had two boys of her own that called her "Mom." Maybe that was it. He had heard her talking to her boys in much the same tone as he remembered his own mother talking to him. Maybe that was why the voice in his head had taken on her sound.

No . . . when he thought of Amanda—which he seemed to be doing more and more lately—it definitely wasn't as a mother to him. But her voice did contain the familiarity of family.

Hmmm . . . Now where had those thoughts come from?

 _ **Fear**_. Was there anything that he was afraid of? Of course there was; everyone had fears, didn't they? Ever since he had spent that night in the catacombs, he was deathly afraid of the dark—and rats. That's why he always slept with the light on in his bathroom.

But that was in irrational fear. Real fear, now that was something entirely different. He could—and had—faced down guns, knives, torture, interrogation, imprisonment, etc. Certainly there were other fears out there that he couldn't even imagine. But nothing he could think of really struck fear into his heart.

Yes, he had lost his parents and been a fearful little boy for a short time—until his uncle had come along and frightened the fear right out of him! He was full of fear when Dorothy had been killed; that fear returned when Eric, his partner, was shot and killed in his place. But those fears had disappeared with time.

There _was_ one thing he could think of that struck fear into his heart right now—something happening to Amanda. How could he begin to tell her mother and boys? How would they be able to move on?

Hmmm . . . No, the real fear was he didn't know how _he_ would be able to move on without her!

 _ **Frustration**_. At this moment he could only think of one cause of his frustration—Amanda. She could be the most annoying, infuriating, stubborn, . . . And the next minute she could be the sweetest, loveliest, kindest . . .

She baked the best poppyseed cake this side of the Mississippi. And her chili was world-class. Her boys weren't permitted to leave for school in the morning without a good homemade breakfast and a hug and kiss for their mother. She was a Junior Trailblazer den mother, PTA mother, single mother, charity organizer, rummage sale coordinator, Bombers coach, handyman—the list went on and on.

But she was also an Agency employee. And not just another one of the girls from the steno pool. She had been shot at, tied up, drugged, kidnapped, and that was just in her first year of employment! Guns were not her style; she preferred to take out her opponents with ordinary objects—a vase, a baseball bat, etc. Better yet, she loved to confuse the enemy. Sometimes it was with a simple distraction. Other times it was with one of her legendary ramblings.

Come to think of it, though, the most frustrating thing about her was her inability to follow direct orders. She NEVER stayed in the car!

Hmmm . . . Or maybe it was her ability to make him do things he never would have dreamed of a few years ago—like fall for a suburban housewife and mother of two!

 _ **Flowers**_. What did he know about flowers? Well . . . they grew in the ground . . . and needed water and sunlight. And someone somewhere grew lots of them because he was frequently ordering them from his local florist. Not that he was purchasing them for himself, mind you. They were an expensive but effective way of thanking the previous night's date for a wonderful evening. Or of letting one of his many gorgeous ladies down easy when he broke it off. Or of apologizing when he had done something wrong-if he was ever in a relationship long enough to do something wrong. Or of apologizing if the lady even just _thought_ he had done something wrong. In his eyes, flowers were the 'Get Out of Jail FREE' cards in the game of life.

He never thought he would look forward to the days when his office-mate brought fresh-cut bouquets from her garden to adorn her desk, but that is exactly what had happened. He had also begun to approach that familiar kitchen window with a little caution. After all, his size 12's had done their share of damage to the flowers that grew underneath it.

Hmmm . . . Maybe he should call the florist and order a nice bouquet to be delivered to 4247 Maplewood as sort of an apology for that—anonymously, of course!

 _ **Future**_. Until a few years ago, he hadn't really thought much about it. His thoughts centered on one case at a time. Or one woman at a time. But both cases and women came and went rapidly. It seemed that there was nothing permanent in his life, and he somehow thought that permanent and future kind of went together.

Maybe that's why he didn't want a partner. Early on, he had thought Dorothy and the Oz Network would be his future. That dream had been cruelly shattered by Serdayich. Then Eric . . . another life ended too soon. Eric had taken a bullet that was meant for him. Eric was the one that was supposed to have a future—not him. So why was he still on this earth thinking about the future?

Well . . . he did have a new partner, and this one seemed to be pretty permanent. Early on it had been Billy that kept putting them together. Now, however, it seemed that he wanted the partnership as much as she did. The cases were still coming and going rapidly, but he actually looked forward to the next one. Every case meant more time with Amanda. The women weren't coming and going, though. In fact, it had been quite some time since any woman other than Amanda had even been to his apartment, much less in his thoughts.

Hmmm . . . Amanda? Permanent? The future was definitely looking interesting!


End file.
